


Stranger in the Night

by enjoltathelstan



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anyways, Enjolras really likes his peace, Grantaire is a jerk at certain points, M/M, Shakespeare Quotations, and crappy written fanfiction, but he is a lovable jerk, he does not appreciate it when people woo him, he knows a weird amount of Shakespeare quotes?, honestly i am so sorry about this, however Grantaire does whatever he wants to do, idk - Freeform, it didn't end up as planned, it was supposed to be good, that doesn't always end well, this is pretty much just shakespeare quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjoltathelstan/pseuds/enjoltathelstan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew that this man was no different, shouting out meaningless poetry in hope of a night in bed in return. Enjolras had played this game often enough to have grown tired of it. So thus, in hopes that the stranger would give up, he spoke - not his most impressive words, but hopefully enough, “If you'd just go. That'd be great.”<br/>This reaction pulled out something Enjolras had not been expecting, a loud gleeful laugh. The man grinned, wide as a kid in a candy shop. “Hello, stranger! What is your name?”</p><p>loosely based on this: "i was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting romeo and juliet at me” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> title was stolen from Frank Sinatra's 'strangers in the night'.  
> yeah, the whole 'Romeo and Juliet' part of this didn't really last. But, here, a e/r fic filled with heaps of Shakespearean quotes. You might feel a little overwhelmed near the end, but I just couldn't help myself. (there might be one dick joke, but it is a canon Shakespeare dick joke so I will not be judged)  
> I also feel like I still come across people who misinterpret the whole 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo'. So, to those people who might have now known, wherefore does not mean 'where', it means 'why'. Thus 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo' means 'Why are you Romeo' because she knew she could not be with him because of their families. And I just wanted to put this in the fic. Only, with a twist.  
> And, I just want it to be known that this fic is really shitty? It supposed to be amazing, I had so many good ideas, but then I just kept on stretching the storyline and absolutely messed everything up :( Anyways, I wanted to publish it because I worked hard and stuff. Great job me for saying this before you guys even get the chance to read lmao

It had been a very calm night, so far. The weather gods had been very generous the past couple of days and so, for the first time in forever, Enjolras had allowed himself to be embraced by fresh air. He had been sitting on his balconies around four o'clock, reading a book so thick that Bahorel had once managed to knock out a 6 foot 5 man with it in one blow, when he heard footsteps coming from below, echoing loudly in the usually quiet street.

The sound, even so small and quiet, was enough to distract Enjolras from his book, a small frown set on his face. This was Enjolras who could probably turn up to a club and read the whole night through, and yet that little sound was enough for him to slightly lower his book and look down at the person who disturbed his peace.

It was a man, perhaps a little older than himself, that he saw on the middle of the street below, looking as if he were attempting to walk a straight line. It did not work as the man seemed unable to follow the white paint, feet stepping outside of the line enough times that it was obvious he was not in a pristine mode. The man himself seemed to find that hilarious, stumbling on to the pavement while giggling lowly.

It was almost as if he could feel the eyes on the back of his head, because all of a sudden he stopped walking, shoes scraping loudly against the pavement in the process, enough to make Enjolras flinch slightly. The man, surprisingly swift in his state, turned on his heel, looking around. He started at ground level, skimming around, but seemed to find no one. His next place to look was straight up at the sky, as if he expected the gods to be mocking him. Only after that did his eyes fall on the balconies. When he stared, his expression was the same as it had been as he looked at the gods, it seemed to intensify, and with heavy steps he walked forwards and he looked up in awe.

“Have I died? Am I looking up into heaven?” he spoke, voice clear in wonder. “For I see an angel above me, golden halo and-”

“Excuse me?” Enjolras asked, something under his skin feeling oppressed under those intense eyes.

“Ah, it speaks! This creature from heaven above speaks through waves of beauty, begging a mortal man as I to be excused.” the man continued, spreading out his hands. If only he knew what he looked like to the staring eyes, he probably would not have acted as he did. “If this is heaven, then I'm afraid I don't want to be alive any longer.”

Enjolras, slightly annoyed by all this sentiment, was still quite content on reading his book and simply did not have time for this stranger. Though his life Enjolras had many a man try to woo him with meaningless words, comparing him to a million suns and all the stars of the sky combined. Those words did not impress him. You could say that to anyone you pleased, but that did not make it real. He knew that this man was no different, shouting out meaningless poetry in hope of a night in bed in return. Enjolras had played this game often enough to have grown tired of it. So thus, in hopes that the stranger would give up, he spoke, not his most impressive words, but hopefully enough, “If you'd just go. That'd be great.”

This reaction pulled out something Enjolras had not been expecting, a loud gleeful laugh. The man grinned, wide as a kid in a candy shop. “Hello, stranger! What is your name?”

Enjolras, shocked at the lack of negative effect his rude words had had on the stranger below, found himself replying to the stranger before he got the chance to stop himself. “None of your business.”

Once more this stranger grinned, falling down on his knees in the middle of the dark street. He was a fool for being so fearless. “Oh, Romeo, Romeo-”

“Will you shut up if I tell you?” Enjolras tried to negotiate, looking around frantically. He wasn't sure whether this man had realized what he had been trying to achieve by telling him to go; that silence he was so used to. It was not only because he wanted to read his book in peace, but also because the man was yelling loud already and Enjolras really did not want his neighbours to wake up at such a sinister hour.

“Definitely.” replied the man, two fingers sliding across his lips as to zip it shut.

“My name is Enjolras.” he replied in a couple of seconds, sure that the stranger was behaving.

This confession did not have the desired effect. Somewhere deep inside he had known that there was no way this stranger was giving up his play so easily. Somewhere deep inside he did not care.

“O Enjolras, Enjolras! W _herefore art thou_ _Enjolras_?” said the stranger this time, breaking his promise as easily as he'd made it.

Enjolras, who was admittedly not his best at Shakespeare, tried to spur up a clever answer, half of him hoping the strange man would go and the other halft hoping he'd stay just a bit longer. “Am I not the one who is supposed to be yelling this at you?” he paused for a second and then added, “and I'm right here?”

“No, wherefore art thou Enjolras as in why the fuck is your name Enjolras?” and the man on the balconies immediately felt offended. “That's so stupid. I'm calling you Apollo.”

Enjolras changed his mind immediately. He wanted nothing to do with this stranger. Before this night he had thought himself quite rude. Usually he was straight to the point, not telling people what they wanted to hear, but telling them what they needed to hear. This stranger was nothing like that. He was as rude as the definition of the word. Enjolras, who had never been known for good tolerance, was too proud to let himself be offended by this drunken stranger. So he stood up, closed his book gently on it's bookmark, and walked inside his apartment, quietly locking the glass doors and drawing on the curtains. He was very satisfied with himself for not even granting that stranger a last look at his face.

It took a minute or two for him to recover from this encounter. He knew that his name was strange, it was something he had always been teased for as a kid (when he got older these teases turned into something different, men and women alike putting specific drawl on _Angel_ -ras as they spoke his name). The only reason for why he went by Enjolras was because his first name was even worse. Of course he could've done something about that by now, but his name had been a part of him for such a long time that he couldn't ever find it in his heart to change it.

The time he had spent with his book was long over, he realized with a disappointed sigh. His mind was now full of raging words, things he could have said to this man and things that he was happy he didn't let escape from his mouth. He himself might be a charming man, but he was capable of being _terrible._ Something told him that the stranger below, with his stupid foolishness and wide smile, did not need his cruel words. A man didn't get that drunk if he didn't have enough cruelty on his mind already.

By this point, the only solution for Enjolras was to get in bed. Thus he slipped off his previous red shirt, swapping it for a soft white one, tipped out of his socks, and was about to slide down his pants when the first sound came. It was soft, yet prominent, like hail on his window. Enjolras immediately felt his nose scrunch up. This sound was like the scrapes on the pavement, low enough to break the silence and curious enough to be investigated.

The sound came from the one window in his room that he hadn't draped closed, right beside his bed so he could stare at the moon before going to sleep at night. As he peered through he saw a little rock flying his way and as he was about to reflexively dodge it it hit the closed window. He peered his eyes in confusion, not sure whether he wanted to believe that was going on was _actually_ going on. But sure enough, as he looked down – face without a doubt incredulous at this point – he saw the stranger there below, throwing these small stones at his window.

He could hear the voice coming through the window, loud and chirpy, cringing to himself at the realization that every single one of his neighbours could too. “ Let's start from the beginning. 

O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

As is a wingèd messenger of heaven

Unto the white, upturnèd, wondering eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds

And sails upon the bosom of the air.”

Enjolras knew how to play this game. He sure did. But his patience was thin – especially this late in the night – and that stranger seemed to be very good at pulling at it. Yet he sat back in his bed, clutching at his knees, thinking that if he pretended not to notice him the stranger might go away. But he didn't. It went on for a couple of minutes, and Enjolras dreamt of the time he had sat on his balconies in silence. These minutes that had passed since already seemed like a lifetime ago.

All of a sudden, the small noise stopped  along with the loud claims . Enjolras, who had not realized that his eyes had previously been closed, peered one eye open and then the other. The silence was back, but this time it felt different. Like something coming his way. Something to disturb the peace once more. 

When it came, he startled. He  _had_ been expecting something. But  _that?_ Nothing could have prepared him for that.

The noise that had finally broke the silence was nothing like he had been expecting. It was loud, a thud against his window, like a bird crashing onto it. He tried to tell himself that maybe it really was just a bird. But as good as he was at lying to others, the one thing he had never mastered was lying to himself. So in fury, he stood up and strode towards the window. He hadn't got a clue what that sound had been, but he knew that the stranger was causing it and that was enough to make his blood boil.

Quickly he opened the window. He was about to lean forwards, possibly yell at the other man, when he saw it. Something heading towards him at top speed. He immediately ducked, just in time for the item to fly past him and shoot into the apartment. He was so appalled by this that he immediately closed the window again, right as the stranger had been about to speak up.

Enjolras was not sure whether he really wanted to know what happened. But something inside him screamed in fear that whatever the man had thrown into his window might be alive. Thus he slowly walked over to where it lay on the floor, peering his eyes cautiously.

“ T hat son of a gun”

There were a lot of thing he had expected. Not this.  The thing he had thrown,  i t was a fucking  _shoe_ .  Enjolras  let out an inhumane sound, and he  would be lying if he said  it wasn't a growl.

“ That's just too bad for him.” Enjolras muttered to himself, leaving the shoe on the floor. He would've been a little happier about this had it been a nice shoe, something he could take just to teach the stranger what he was all about, but it wasn't a nice shoe. It was battered and weary, laces chewed on and grey, and if shoes could talk this one would be saying 'kill me'.

Enjolras,  curious yet suspicious, walked to the window once more and looked down onto the  street, seeing to his relief that it was empty . No trace of this stranger apart from the dust in his window caused by the little pebbles. He had grown so exhausted from this sudden turn of events, his anger wearing him out slowly, but surely,  that he couldn't even bother wondering where a man like that could have possibly gone shoeless. Instead he chose to listen to the part of his brain, a part Combeferre had taken over, one that was nagging at him to go to sleep.

He brushed his teeth, cleaned his face and lay down in bed. The thoughts of the next day clouded his mind, all the work he had to get done, the class of young school kids he had promised to tutor, the book laying beautifully on his bedside table. He felt like escaping to another world, one where politicians made good choices and the young boy down the street had enough to eat  for once in his life . It was his dream world, lying right there in front of his eyes. He could almost touch it as he started drifting away. Almost touch it. That was until the knock came on his door.

Something within him told him not to answer.  I t wouldn't be the first time his neighbours came in the middle of the night with stupid questions such as 'hey, does your shower work? Mine doesn't, so I'm just checking in'. Who the hell even took a shower at five am? (he knew that his neighbour hadn't. Earlier that day he had heard him speaking to his friend in the hallway, talking about an attractive blond haired neighbour. His friend told him to make a move. Enjolras pretended  that he hadn't heard it. When the young man came the following night  about the shower there was nothing at all suspicious about it.)

Enjolras, out of generosity, felt like he couldn't disappoint his neighbour  _if_ it was him knocking, so he slowly dragged himself to his feet. The door was not far away, but even taking a single step from his bed felt like sorrow.

The knocking was still going, and growing louder every minute, and Enjolras was not sure he could muster up kindness at this point. When he finally reached the door he had to take in a deep breath to calm himself, just as the therapist he had once gone to had said. The therapy session hadn't worked out. Neither had the deep breath ing part.

When he opened the door, it took him a moment to let the wheels in his head turn before he realized who it was. He immediately attempted to shut it again, but the stranger already had his hand braced strongly on it. Very strongly. It was impressive. Enjolras sort of wished he could see the muscles that were sure to be hiding somewhere under his thick sweater (although, if you ask, he will never admit to wishing such a thing).

“ I'm Grantaire.”  Enjolras swore to god, he tried to get a word in, but as soon as his brain had caught up to what was going on the stranger,  _Grantaire_ , was speaking. “ You have my shoe.”

Enjolras stared at him for a moment or two, taking him in from top to bottom. He came to the conclusion that he was not bullshitting him. “The shoe you literally threw into my apartment?”

“Exactly! We seem to be on the same page.” the man declared, loud voice echoing in the hallway. His lips were spread in the most shit eating grin Enjolras had ever seen, and he wondered what would happen if he pushed him out and shut the door. It seemed that the stranger sensed his thoughts, for suddenly he was wandering into the apartment, head tilted slightly as he explored the  new environment . Enjolras was furious.  Grantaire found that very amusing, he stepped a little closer with a small smirk, grinning cheekily. “ I feel like I have been lied to. Your face this close looks even better than I had imagined it. With a face like that I am sure that you've had  many a greatness thrust upon you.”

Enjolras elected to ignore the last part.

“ Tell me, Grantaire, h ow did you  come to  find this exact apartment?”  he asked through clammed teeth, breathing in and out deeply once more.

“Oh, I knocked at your neighbours  door first and he  from there he  lead me in the right direction.  All I had to say was the word 'angel' and I was dropped on your door. ”  explained Grantaire, leaning back against the wall.  “ You seem to be a recognizable face amongst this building.”

Enjolras could feel his eyes as they tried to escape from his head.  “ Please, remind me once more of why you happened to need to come to my apartment.”

“You're lucky you have a pretty face with that memory even worse than a goldfish's. I came to find my shoe.” the man gushed once more, reaching up to ruffle his already messy dark hair.

“And you  _needed_ to find this shoe? You couldn't just have gone home and put on a new pair?”

“I don't really have another pair. And I wouldn't have a stranger stealing my only shoes, no matter how beautiful they might be.” said the man, looking around the room. He spotted the ratted shoe  lying right by the bed. His face became brighter and he strode towards it, sitting on the bed as he pulled on the shoe. “Jesus Christ Josephson, Apollo, this is like the most comfortable bed I've ever been in. And I've been in  _many_ .”

Enjolras, absolutely flabbergasted by both this stranger's egoistic words and the fact that he was sitting on his bed without having been invited inside  the apartment in the first place, decided that enough was enough. “Okay, you have your shoe so it's time  for you to get out .  Your presence is not needed here. ”

“ You're spitting fire. It almost seems to me that you have witchcraft in your lips.” and that was it for Enjolras. He grabbed the stranger's hand and pulled him to his feet, ignoring the grin on his lips, and then proceeded to pull him to the door.

“You'll never find out, for you are not the King Henry I'm looking for, and by no accounts will I be your Kate.”

“I will leave willingly.” claimed Grantaire, after Enjolras had gotten him outside. “But remember, my heart is ever at your service.” Enjolras shut the door straight in his face.

He doesn't move from the door  un til he hears the soft footsteps turning down the hall, far enough to know he's gone for real.

 

For some reason he cannot explain,  Enjolras finds himself thinking about the man, about how terrifyingly confident he had been in himself.  He felt maybe that self confidence was something he  got from a bottle .  Why he was bothering to even think about this man was beyond Enjolras, but soon he realized that he could not stop. He found himself a little fascinated. And so, now too awake to go to bed, even as he looked at the clock which read 5 am,  he allowed himself to procrastinate.

This behaviour was something Enjolras detested. The need to put yourself out there and embarrass yourself like that man had done. But Enjolras could not find it in himself to detest this stranger. He couldn't even find it in himself to think him foolish, for no foolish man could ever recite so much of anything without blinking an eye, and that man surely had.

Enjolras was very good at pretending. He had been good at pretending that this stranger did not interest him. He had also been very good at pretending that he didn't hear those footsteps nearing again. It was only when the knock itself came, low and hesitant, that he allowed himself to stop pretending. He walked to the door, not bothering to fake his surprise as he looked at the man in front of him. The man who, this time, managed to look shy and embarrassed. Enjolras d idn 't even  bother to try to  stop him when he slowly walk ed in , staring Enjolras deep in the eyes  with silent question . He  caught on to the lack of restrain that  Enjolras gave and took his place on the bed once more. “I realized that what happened before might have been a little strange.  I'm really sorry. About the shoe and the whole yelling at you while you were reading on your balconies thing.  It's just that you are the most beautiful human being I have ever seen,  a nd I'm not saying this to be weird or anything. Although it probably seems like I'm harassing you, and I genuinely hope you don't  feel so. I just, you're literally so beautiful  and I know that might be common knowledge, but I really just want to be sure that you yourself  know that.  And I hope this encounter was enough to make you remember me for at least the next month or two, even in a less-than-positive way. You know, the whole,”  he took a deep breath, laughing at himself while he still had the chance to. “'Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. If you love me, I'll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind'.”

Enjolras, sitting down at the only chair in this room, stared at the stranger in shock. Not only because of the words he was speaking, but because he himself was  _letting_ him. He was letting him sit on top of his bed, letting him woo him through words of Shakespeare, letting him be a part of his life for a night. He was so utterly surprised by himself more than anyone else,  enough  that it was wearing him down. “I... how do you even remember all this?”

“ This is nothing.  I have like, a shit lot of Shakespearian quotes to throw at you.  A nd I'd like to get the chance to do so. So if you're not completely shaken by this whole encounter,  it would be an hono u r for  a fool like me to  get  the number from a god  such  as you .”

“ Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.” spoke Enjolras, eyes growing wide when he realized what he was doing,  what he was participating in . Grantaire on the other hand had a small crooked grin at the corners of his lips.

“A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

Enjolras really had not meant to reach out for the strangers phone when it was offered to him. Neither had he allowed his  hand to  quickly  punch in that familiar row of numbers. When he looked up and saw the stranger's face he realized that he was not the only one surprised by his actions.

Grantaire, swallowing loudly as he stared down at his phone, spoke quietly. “Expectation is the root of all heartache.”

“So I shall not be expecting a call?” Enjolras asked, a small grin on his face for the first time that night.

“Oh, yes you  shall . But I will not allow myself to expect any more.” the stranger replied, managing to surprise Enjolras once again.  Before anything else could be said, the stranger stood up. “Now I'm going to leave, and I promise you this is the last of me you will see tonight.” he then strode towards the door, stopping only when he was outside. 

That was when he looked up, straight into Enjolras' eyes.  The stranger's eyes were blue as the ocean, and Enjolras could almost see the fishes swimming inside his head. They stood a moment, Enjolras' hand on the door and yet not making a move to close it. Grantaire grinned widely. For some reason Enjolras found himself compelled and unable to help himself. He smiled right back. 

“When I first sa w you I fell in love and you smiled because you knew.” he backed out the door, grinning even wider.  He reached his hand out, placing it over Enjolras' (and, no, he was not blushing). One by one he plucked Enjolras' finger's off, the latter staring on in wonder. Then, as his hand was off, Grantaire slid his own down the door. Right before he swung it close he spoke once more,  “Goodbye, Apollo. May our paths soon cross  again .”

 

Enjolras lay in his bed awake when the morning sun came came peeking out of the sky. It had taken him a long time to think everything over. He was not one to go for men who were so bold in their interest. He liked soft spoken partners, those who would compliment you in complete sincerity and talk to you as an equal, not as somebody who se ground they had to kiss. Soon, Enjolras decided that that was exactly why he liked Grantaire. He was not like any other man he had ever met. He spoke to him in sincerity and yet he made a fool out of himself while at it. His compliments were not said in the way you would hand a ticket to get to your favorite roller coaster, like he knew that he would get something from Enjolras if he said them. No, this man had made an absolute fool out of himself, he had been drunk, he had worn shoes that had probably been through hell and back. But he had spoken only what he wanted to say. He didn't sugar-coat his words and he didn't exaggerate, what he said was what he thought. The words of praise are therefore not meaningless, whether they are said accidentally or on purpose.

At the time, Enjolras had not known why he did what he did. Why would he allow that loud stranger that came into his life and disturbed his well earned piece to get any part of him? Later he realized that the answer to that was in reality the question itself. Maybe he needed this man, this complete stranger, in his life _because_ he needed somebody to disturb him. Not someone to say 'stop working for a moment and live your life', but someone who could gain his attention merely with his footsteps, someone who could make him absolutely crazy, and yet have him happy by the end of the day.

He found himself wishing for a stranger to call him the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> So that is it. Yeah. Not sure what I can say apart from sorry about this whole thing.  
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
